Lucien and Camille decided to observe Jacque Dufort’s apartment at different times during the day. In the morning, they saw an attractive woman leave, petite with dark hair, locking the door behind her.
“His wife?” Lucien asked as the woman walked toward Boulevard St. Germain.
Camille shrugged. “Someone was in the apartment when I first came. Maybe it was her.”
They waited another thirty minutes, saw no activity, and left. They returned that afternoon, watched the apartment for an hour but saw no one.
“Maybe Jacques is no longer here,” Lucien suggested. “Or he rarely leaves.”
Camille eyed the flat. “Or any number of possibilities,” she said. “Especially now with the Germans in control of the city.”
“Not what you expected?”
She hesitated. “I’m not sure. No sign of Jacques, which make
